


4 1/2 Weeks

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, F/M, Flirting, Future Fic, Healing, Insecurity, Kissing, Light Dom/sub, Lola feels, Love, Resolved Sexual Tension, Romance, Sexual Content, Shower Sex, Speculation, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 20:44:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3623700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Future fic feels after "Love in the Time of HYDRA". Sort of my own reversal of the Agent 33/Ward scenario with Skye helping Coulson recover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	4 1/2 Weeks

_Week One_

"There you are."

She handed him the still-steaming cup of coffee.

He took it from her quietly and stared out across the water. Mist was rising up over it, the weather unusually cold for this time of year.

Fingers brushing against his shoulder, she tried to get his attention again.

Staring up at her, she could tell from his expression what he was wrestling with. His recovery, how they had barely escaped in Lola, and their team and resources scattered.

"Hey, it's not gone. We're still here. The team's still out there," she said, tipping her chin towards the far side of the river.

He frowned and looked away from her. At least she wasn't pretending that he didn't shoulder the blame in this.

Leaving him, she walked to the porch railing and sighed drinking deeply from her own cup.

It felt good to not have to wear the dampeners on her arms, at least for a bit. She was used to sitting in stillness now. He was the one who couldn't sit still.

She sat on top of the wood railing, stretching out her legs in front of her.

Predictably, he got up slowly out of the chair, holding at his side, picking his mug up off the armrest and made his way to her.

Peeling away at white paint chips on the wood beneath her, she listened to the planks of the old porch creak at his approach.

"We need to get back out there."

"We need to lay low. They still think we're dead." She turned to him abruptly. "And, as soon as you heal," she finished, softening it a bit. "I'm afraid you're no good in the field like this. And, I need you to be good."

Ever since he'd handed off the Black Box to her as some kind of act of pentience, she'd taken to referring to herself as Director.

"Yes, Director," he said, smirking at her, a little of his sullenness gone.

"Now that I've been taken off Active Sponge Bath Duty," she teased.

"Humiliation," he said, diverting his eyes upwards. "Effective."

"Did it sound like a complaint?" she asked, blinking slowly at him, as he sipped on his coffee.

His eyes widened slightly, but he just shook his head and leaned his shoulder against the beam she was propped against.

"You can't say things like that if you're Director, Skye."

He sounded _so_ damn serious.

"Why?" she said, turning her shoulders towards him. "Because you never did?"

His face fell a little and she wished she could rewind. Not make it sound like another mistake, even if it was just teasing.

She hopped off to the floor as he took a step back to make room for her.

"How do you feel about going fishing?" she asked him, changing the subject. "All the stuff's down at the dock."

"Sure, why not," he answered, as she bounced down the steps in her sweatshirt and shorts.

He'd noticed that unless they had reason to leave the house, Skye would spend the entire day in sweats if she could get away with it.

Walking slowly after, he reached the stairs and took the first step, his face screwing up. He'd fractured ribs and now we was just waiting it out, and letting Skye give him a hand when he needed it.

She'd gotten used to his stubborn face and her hand was already held out to help him down the stairs.

It was frustrating.

And Skye was _always_ patient.

He took her fingers in his as she helped guide him down into the grass and he paused for a moment to inhale, trying to absorb some of the pain.

"Good?"

Nodding, he let go of her hand, and they walked to the dock.  She started to unwind the boat's rope.

"Let's just fish from here," he said, thinking about the amount of effort him getting into the boat was going cost them. "If you don't mind?"

"Nope," she said, reaching to pull out the tackle box and a couple of rods.

She made sure everything was in order and then set up at the end of the dock.

He knew she'd come down here on her own a few times. When he'd stayed in bed those first few days. Could've left the upstairs bedroom, just didn't particularly want to. He'd watched from the window, thinking about how this was all his fault.

When she had finally enticed him  to leave it, it was with a John Hughes marathon on television. She let him know she was just as happy to watch it alone.

She'd left him upstairs, he tried a few minutes later to get down the stairs on his own. He'd had to ask for help, finally.

They'd sat inside all day, as it rained, curled up on the couch eating cold pizza and watching movies about teenagers who thought their lives were over until it all worked out in the end.

Now she was helping him ease down to the dock and handing him the fishing pole.

"I could probably make them jump right out of the water with a seismic pulse wave," she said, looking down at her arms.

"That would be cool," he said, tipping his head at her.

" _You_ are on worm duty," came the reply, handing the styrofoam carton at him. "C'mon, Agent," she said, holding it out, as he took it from her.

She dangled her hook towards him as he fished out a worm and watched Skye look on in disgust.

After he pretended he was about to eat it, she knocked it out of his hand with a squeak, as he held in a laugh and the worm plopped down into the water. They both leaned over when there was a rush of activity below their feet.

"Hoppin'," Skye said, looking back at him. "Let's do this."

An hour later, they'd kept two decent-sized fish, after tossing a few out.

"They're bass," he said. "We can eat them. Dinner?"

"As long as you clean them," Skye said, looking at him holding them up with his good side.

"Don't know how?" he asked.

"Never had to learn."

He held out his hand to her, wanting to get up.

Getting to her feet she helped him up as he groaned.

"It's a good skill to have," he said, gritting his teeth as his ribs screamed at him.

"You clean," she said, bending over the boat, putting things back. "I cook."

She paused when she caught him staring at her legs.

"Agent," she said, going upright and putting her hands on her hips. "You can't look at your Director like that. What will the recruits think?"

He gave her a slight smile. No point in pretending, was there?

"So insubordinate," she said, reaching to grab his chin between her fingers.

"I'm working on it," he answered, then looked back towards the house.

Taking the fish out of his hand, she offered him the crook of her arm as they headed back inside.

  
#

Week Two

He was starting to feel unnecessary. That was the problem.

Skye had always been a quick study and now he was thinking strategy. Getting up earlier in the day so that by the time he got downstairs there wasn't some varation of fish cooking.

Today he managed to hobble on his own, wincing down to the last step as he turned seeing her holding up a spatula and staring at him silently.

"Made it down on your own," she said, looking back and the stairs and raising her eyebrows and turning back around. "Well done."

"Good morning," he said, walking towards her. He leaned over her shoulder to see what was in the pan.

"I appreciate your enthusiasm, really," he said. "But, no more fish. Not today."

"I got on a fish kick," she said, shrugging, putting the spatula down and turning around towards him.

"Brunch," he offered. "Let's go into town."

A whole week had passed and now he was getting cagey. Skye had been so nice about it, had tried to give him his distance.

May had come by to visit, and that had been hard. It almost felt like a setback. But the pain was something he could work through, just like this injury, just like the carving. He'd admitted he made a mistake keeping a secret like that from her for so long.

The team was still active. She'd held things together while he had fallen apart.

They were working out of a series of safehouses in New York. Had a few run ins with some gifteds in Hell's Kitchen and May had been very eager to share the details.

May wanted Skye back in the field and soon. They needed her muscle. And, apparently, she was great at breaking-and-entering discretely.

Then he'd gone back upstairs and when he came back down, May was gone.

He found his shoes near the door and slipped into the sneakers as Skye came back down the stairs after running up them moments ago.

Grabbing Lola's keys, he held them in his fingers and shoved his wallet into his jeans pocket.

"You good?" he started then stopped when he looked up.

Skye was wearing a short cotton dress, looking a little out of breath.

"Those...aren't sweats," he said, sounding exactly like an idiot.

"I just figured since we never go out," she said. "I'd be a little fancy."

"I don't know," he grumbled, looking down at his old v-neck tee. "Are you sure you want to be seen with me?"

"Always," she said, stopping in front of him, poking her knee against his. "But I could really use a really good cup of coffee," she said, wiggling her eyebrows.

"I can make that happen," he smiled, pointing at her, holding the door open as she walked out.

He found himself on her side of Lola, holding the door open.

"Coulson, you don't have to," she waved it off but then got in anyway as he shut the door after her.

This was not a date. Repeat. This was not a date. They had just been spending an enormous amount of time together, and she's been helping him work through it. Sure, there was some flirting involved, if he were to be honest.

As he got in and started Lola, they pulled away from their little spot on the river and headed into town.

"I found a French place," he said, glancing over at her. "In Castroville. Alsatian architecture and the eggs florentine..."

He stopped, noticing her studying him.

"Of course you did," she laughed, sitting back in the seat, feeling the sun on her face. She stretched her arms out, and the distraction almost made him miss the turn. "It's one of the things I like about you."

Come again? He turned to look back at her as he got onto the highway.

"I like that you pay attention to details. Your natural curiosity," she smiled. "It makes you a _great_ profiler."

He smiled back at her, trying to keep his eyes on the road.

"Do I need to drive, Agent? You seem preoccupied."

"Just...curious, _Director_."

It turned out the French restaurant was even better than he'd expected. A little Texas town with its own culinary chef.

Skye was making it feel like a date, though.

Leaning over to whisper and making it all seem like a bit of a joke, but, not quite.

As though neither of them knew what HYDRA was, or about Obelisks, or spies coming back from the dead, and the woman sitting across from him couldn't split continents apart like Sif had promised.

No, not her.

The house they were in wasn't even SHIELD's. It was a friend from her Rising Tide days, that wanted to live off the grid. Part of the deal she'd made with her mother's people, about staying out of sight.

And he was pretty sure Skye hadn't had the chance to feel this normal in a really long time.

Neither had he.

What was the harm?

#

  
Week Three

#

"Now here's a side of you I thought I'd only ever hear told in tales."

He scooted out from underneath Lola, hands with some grease on them.

Skye was standing over him, her arms crossed. Her cheeky expression matching the tone of her voice moments before.

"Not everything in Lola is high tech," he replied, putting the wrench down and sitting up. The pain was still there, but not quite as sharp. "Some of her parts are still original."

He wiped his hand off on the nearby rag as she bent down next to him in her jean shorts, looking over his face.

Her tongue darted out to lick the pad of her thumb and she slowly wiped away a mark from along his cheek.

"Guess it's almost lunch time?" he managed to breathe out.

"Yes," she answered, with just the hint of a smile in her eyes. "Do you want to wash up?"

Getting to his feet, he offered her his hand and pulled her up towards him.

"I don't know, are you offering to help, Director?"

She laughed at his remark, but he just stared back at her.

"I'll take care of it," he chuckled, dropping the rag on the ground and walking back towards the house.

The truth is, he'd been avoiding this, in various stages. For what seemed like forever.

Now, they were in some in-between place. And it had first felt like a purgatory. Punishment for his failures. Skye's goodness in front of him as a daily reminder.

He'd mourned her before. Thought he lost her again. And then they just slipped back into a routine afterwards. Duty. Sacrifice.

It came so naturally to both of them.

He pulled off his t-shirt and moved to turn on the shower in the upstairs room, tossing the shirt to the floor. Then his sweatpants came after as he tested the water from the shower before stepping inside.

A little cold at first wouldn't hurt him, might help, actually, where his thoughts were headed.

Pulling the cheap plastic curtain across, he rinsed his face and bent down to take the soap from the old ceramic holder inset in the wall. This place hadn't been touched, in a very long time. He was sure of it.

"May said something to me, last time."

He froze, hearing her voice. Close by.

"She said we didn't need this world, but..that this world needed us."

Through the thin curtain, he could see the outline of her standing just on the other side of it.

"The real reason I'm here," she said, taking in a deep breath. "Is that I can't do this without you. I'm caught in between what I am and what I was. And I don't belong in either place."

"I'm not the man I thought I was, Skye," he answered, resting a hand against the wall. His heartbeat was already pulsing through him.

She pulled at the plastic between them, looking him in the face.

"But I know who you are."

There was a pocket of silence between them, just the sound of the shower washing over him into the tub.

Then he reached for her, kissing her, drawing her towards him, arms around her waist and then grabbing her by the loops in her jean shorts as she kissed him   
back, _so eager_ , caressing his face with her hands. Shrugging up against him to get closer, he deepened their kiss, twisting his hands in her hair to open her mouth to his.

She stumbled over the edge of the tub, into the shower, pushing him back against the tile as he drew in a breath, watching the water wash over her body, until his eyes locked with hers.

"Guess this has been on your mind, too?" she asked, biting her lower lip.

"Pretty much," he nodded. "I know you, too."

Probably overeager, but, he kissed her anyway.

Skye didn't mind it at all.

In fact, she liked it.

  
#

Week Four

#

  
They might need a bigger bed, really.

Skye used to make herself seem so compact, and maybe, that wasn't who she really ever was.

He didn't mind at all, but, she did like to steal the covers for some reason, and he was cold.

Looking over at her next to him, he was working out how he was going to artfully take back the sheet they were sharing. Or, if he should just risk it and wake her and they'd have another long night.

Then he saw movement, out of the corner of his eye. Someone standing in the shadows.

Narrowing his eyes, trying to discern if he was dreaming or if this was real, he sat up.

"Phil," the familiar voice said. "Glad to see you made it."

"Guess we both know what it's like to play dead," he answered. " _Although_ , I've actually been dead."

He started to get up as the man's hand motioned towards him.

"At ease."

"I don't want to wake her," he snapped.

"No," the other man replied. "I suppose you don't."

They sat in silence for a moment. He couldn't help but wonder why he was here, now, of all times.

"You always told me SHIELD was family," he said. It sounded like an accusation.

"Yes," came the reply. Reluctantly.

"You were right. I figured it out. We're not an organization. We're a network. And yeah, we fight and we step on each other's toes sometimes. But, we're just  
people.

"Some people," the man said from the shadows, "Get big and green and..."

"They do," he snapped. "And we deal with it. We make a place for them. We don't just try to control them."

"Well," the other replied, drawing it out. "You might be right." He paused. "But, not everyone is ready for that."

"They never are. We know."

"I'll bet you do," he chuckled, almost seeming delighted. "And Phil?" He stood up and walked towards the door the room, then stopped. "I was wrong about your girl. Hold onto that."

He watched Fury walk away.

Then, he went back to sleep. He let Skye keep the covers.

"Can I have a snooze button?"

Skye leaned over and kissed his neck.

"You're wearing me out," he slowly smiled with a groan, grabbing his pillow tighter. "I thought you wanted me to be good in the field," he continued, snuggling in as he opened one eye.

They'd already run a few ops together. Just the two of them. Testing out the Welcome Wagon concept.

So far, no interference from Skye's people. They wanted to stay secret and he could understand why.

They weren't ruffling any of the wrong feathers. He had an itch to ruffle some of the right feathers, though.

"I'm thinking it's time," she said, pushing against him, turning him over as she swept a leg over him.

"For...what?" he asked, biting on his lower lip as she settled on top of him.

"Two things," she announced, humoring him. "One," she began running her hands along his ribcage, "Is that you are ready to go back in the field."

Pulling him towards her center, she kissed him softly. "Defintely ready."

"And second," she continued, working her hips against his morning erection.

"Not ready to talk business..." he groaned, tugging her against him, pulling her down towards his mouth.

"We should just go bigger," she pleaded against his lips, feeling him pressing into her, sighing. "We can go harder."

"Mind changed," he said, staring up at her. "We are talking about..."

"Strategy. We're ready. _You're_ ready," she said, taking his hands in hers, locking their fingers together.

He had considered this already.

"I think I'd like to be an agent just a little while longer," he said, as she drew his arms up over his head.

"You want me in charge?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," he smirked. "And if I'm a very good boy, who knows? I might even make Assistant Director."

"Okay," she grinned, sliding her hands down the back of his arms.

She drew her lips very close to his. "I'm done talking business. For now."


End file.
